Get A Taste For Religion, Lick A Monk
by Swall0wtail
Summary: Just what the title says. Post coital reflections with a punch line. Yep. GojyoxSanzo. MM


Title: "Get a Taste for Religion, Lick a Monk"  
Rating: R  
Author: Swall0wtail  
Disclaimer: There is no way on God's holy earth that I own this and no way I ever will. I mean no harm and am not making any sort of profit from this venture, so don't bother to sue.  
Summary: Just what the title says. Post coital reflections with a punch line. Yep. GojyoxSanzo.  
A/N: A POV piece in Gojyo's POV. Yes. Nothing really explicit. Hopefully there is no rampant fluffiness, nor egregious angst. Just some post coital reflections.

--  
  
God, can't that monk ever relax? Here we are enjoying the post coital effects of some pretty damn amazing sex and Sanzo's stiff as a board. Not that I wouldn't mind if some other part of his anatomy were stiff as a board, but the whole cold shoulder act is a tad over the top. We are only two minutes past orgasm (yes I clocked it) and already he wants me out of his bed. Won't even consider a second round.  
  
Now I can understand wanting the bed back, it is only a small single, but I can think of some very pleasant space saving ways to cope with the minimal surface area. Besides, I'm a glutton for physical contact, even with a cold fish like Sanzo. Hmm, I wonder what that says about my deep seeded neuroses. Longs for physical contact, womanizes, and has been known to man-ize. Diagnosis? Perhaps my mother didn't hold me enough when I was young? Yeah, that's a laugh.  
  
I glare at noting in particular and look up at his face. His eyes are closed and his breathing is deep, but I know he's not asleep. He's too tense. Even the great Genjo Sanzo isn't this tense in his sleep, I should know. When you're with a group long enough, you start to catch onto the sleeping patterns of your travel mates.  
  
Yeah, so I have watched him sleep, so what? We've all watched Sanzo sleep, even Hakkai. I know Sanzo's watched all of us too. It's not really that we don't trust each other, it's more that it doesn't pay to keep your guard down for too long.  
  
So, that damn monk is just lying there with his eyes closed, trying to kick me out of his bed with just his damn aura.  
  
Now don't for one minute be shocked that he isn't more violent in getting me out of his bed and has gone soft by thinking that this is a passive-aggressive tactic on Sanzo's part. It's anything but, if you'll just trust me. Every time I manage to wrangle rooming arrangements with him and suceed in screwing him, Sanzo's patented get-the-fuck-away-from-me-and-out-of-this-bed aura becomes more potent. Hell, even now I can almost feel Sanzo using his will power to try and turn the air between us into some sort of solid barrier. Scariest thing is I think one day he'll manage it.  
  
Thinking about all of this though is annoying. Nobody can get my ire up like that damn monk. Priest, whatever. Sure I argue all the time with the monkey, but that's all in play. Sanzo, however, is the proverbial PMSing ice maiden.  
  
Well, maybe not maiden. Not after some of what we've done, but you still get the idea.  
  
Come to think of it, that's not all bad in itself. Not that he's so cold, but that he's so annoying. I think we might make a partly conscious effort to piss each other off. That's probably what makes the sex so hot.  
  
Never the less, it can still bug the hell out of me.  
  
So, I guess it's time for a little pay back. This whole gift of annoyance is a two way street. If he can ignore me, I can stare at him. If there's one thing he hate's, it's being watched. I guess it reminds him that people notice his good looks. Don't know why, but he hates that. Growing up in a monastery must've really done a number on his psychoses [1]. Unfortunately for my health, he can usually tell when someone's eyes are on him, and if it's one of our merry little band, he'll lash out with that damn fan of his.  
  
He is beautiful. Shame he's a monk. Not that that has stopped him from breaking every vow he ever took, but still, he could've become a very pretty bed warmer for some important higher up somewhere if he had chosen a slightly different path in life. Yeah, I could just see him lying somewhere on spun silk, comfortably enshrined in an oversized bed, like some exotic concubine to a demi-god.  
  
On the other hand, if Sanzo had never become a monk, then it was more than likely that their paths never would have crossed. And if they had, the blond would have been too far above Gojyo to ever hope to claim. At least this way I can bed him, if nothing else. This way he could stare at him and memorize the way his sweat soaked limbs sprawled out imperiously over the cheap linen sheets as if they were spun silk. Spun silk that he probably was entitled to just because fortune had decided to bless him with an appearance that could make even a god pause; no matter how slight that hesitation might be, Gojyo was more than sure that Sanzo would be able to stop any god in his tracks.  
  
Sha Gojyo was willing to dare any foe or ally to look upon the tense tableau before him on the bed and not be affected. How could anyone ignore the way Sanzo's hair, soaked with sweat, turned a very mundane brown just along his hairline and especially in front of his ears; a sharp contrast to the rarified gold of the rest of his hair. And how the rest of his bangs cling to his forehead and cheeks, cheeks that still hold faint traces of a flush, further proof of our earlier activities. Cheeks brushed by fair lashes that linger over them like a light mist; hiding violet eyes, stilled in concerted annoyance.  
  
He looks so fragile, like some rare china doll. His skin is the right color for porcelain, continually hidden away beneath those deceptively benign robes. They're just a front though, all those layers of cloth. An elaborate smoke screen to hide how delicate his human form is. Exquisite, but delicate. It's a wonder he hadn't already shattered yet, like some child's mirror, especially after all that he had been through.  
  
I do have a theory though. I get them every once in a while when I bother to think. Every one of our enemies can be intimidated by Hakkai, Goku, and me because we're youkai. Only the really smart ones, the cunning tenacious bastards you know are just going to cling onto life like a leech, are the ones who fear Sanzo. In a physical fight, without his sutra and gun, Sanzo is chicken shit. He's still alive though. Enemies have hesitated long enough in the past that they're the ones dead right now and not Sanzo.  
  
Although you wouldn't guess it, considering how responsive that monk's being.  
  
But, anyway, the only explanation is that some youkai are born with some unknown secret sense that tells them it's just not worth it killing Sanzo. They'd be better off dead, 'cause if they somehow did kill him, the great Genjo Sanzo would just be the one to screw the whole system of reincarnation just to haunt some poor youkai from beyond the grave. I mean anyone just has to look at him and know that Sanzo is just cruel enough to hunt you to the ends of the universe just for wasting five minutes of his time.  
  
Maybe that's what I like about him. Good stamina. Heh.  
  
Damn. He still hasn't opened his eyes. Why won't he look at me?  
  
Yeah, Sanzo's body may be only human, but inside he's a white hot flame of scorching intensity that never goes out. His philosophy is the spirit is willing, and the flesh had damn well go along for the ride or risk getting left behind. Nothing in this world could tame him; but he might be tempered.  
  
I don't know if I have the patience to try, even for a prize such as this. I've become a bit out of practice. Too many one night stands with too many very willing women.  
  
Then again, none of them ever looked like Sanzo does after sex.  
  
His chest is slick with yet more sweat and spit; cum spread liberally across his torso, too much there to be from merely one donor, as it trails lower over a flat abdomen to pool in a gentle dip of hip.  
  
I don't know whose cum it is, his or mine, possibly both mixed together. I can't help but wonder if I'd be able to tell from the taste whose is whose. The salty tang of Sanzo's skin underneath would probably undermine all serious efforts of inquiry on my part. I'm pretty sure it would be impossible anyhow, but now that the thought's lodged in my brain, it refuses to budge. The temptation is too great for me to care about consequences, hell, it might even be enough to get him to crack his eyes a bit.  
  
That thought signals the end of any restraint on my part and I shift slightly so I'm comfortably hovering over his belly. I lean forward slowly and let my hair fall forward to drag along his skin as my tongue cuts a wide furrow through the liquid in the dip of his hip. Pushing myself up, I glance over to his face, only to find him staring at me; his usual inscrutable mask firmly in place.  
  
I tilt my head to the side, carefully considering the flavor lingering in my mouth. I don't really care that as my hair falls to the side, creating a sort of curtain between us, that several now sticky locks stick to my cheek and neck. Just as I suspected, the two flavors are indistinguishable.  
  
Unfazed, by his intense scrutiny, I leer at him and say, "Get a taste for religion, lick a monk." I'm barely able to dodge a particularly vicious swipe with the Harrisen, but I escape unharmed. Ha. Sanzo must be losing his touch.  
  
Owari

--  
  
[1] I was having trouble deciding whether to use psychoses or neuroses. Both make for such wonderfully confusing medical double talk. In the end though, I settled on psychoses because I liked 's definition of it best. It sorta works for Sanzo... ;D


End file.
